


drown the lights and dive

by Livali



Series: hello, my friend (we created something phenomenal) [2]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, here there be pirates and sirens: you have been tempted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 03:47:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29465238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Livali/pseuds/Livali
Summary: The sea is good at keeping its secrets—or it has been, until now, when The Conviction stumbles upon the wreckage of a long-missing battleship housing one of the most beautiful creatures Hina’s ever seen. Sirens leave many unbelievable fables in their wake, but it's nothing in comparison to what’s right in front of her.Things that exist only in myths can’t harm you, Kyoko used to tell her. And you know that is all there is to it. Isn’t that how the saying goes?Not for long.or;It isn’t anything like the stories they’ve ever heard.
Relationships: Asahina Aoi/Celestia Ludenberg, Asahina Aoi/Kirigiri Kyoko, Asahina Aoi/Kirigiri Kyoko/Celestia Ludenberg, Kirigiri Kyoko/Celestia Ludenberg
Series: hello, my friend (we created something phenomenal) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2198454
Comments: 14
Kudos: 20





	drown the lights and dive

**Author's Note:**

> by the time you’re reading this i'm probably already taking a snooze. wew. this thing went in 24 completely different directions before a somewhat coherent concept finally surfaced but um. yeah. i guess that’s just how the cookie crumbles 
> 
> with aus in this premise, your first thought would be something along the lines of ‘hina HAS to be a mermaid’ and that’s correct!! it totally and explicably is. i adore that concept too! however, siren!celeste appeals to me in a way mermaid!hina does not so… you have this. this isn't proofread, and that will come back to bite me in the ass later, but still!! here!
> 
> insp: starset – diving bell

“…now that just looks like junk.”

“I—what? No, it doesn’t.” Makoto hastily shoves Byakuya away from the haul they’re inspecting on the deck, as if the declaration alone will fling it straight back into sea. “This part obviously looks like it’s from a shipwreck! This is almost the same material as ours; this was probably part of either the boom or the hull, and it’s all splintered up!”

“Like it crashed into somewhere,” Hina interjects over Makoto’s shoulder with a grin. “Am I right? Yeah?”

“Exactly!”

“And? It’s junk,” Byakuya repeats flatly, arms crossed. It’s a debate they have at least five or six days a week, depending on the haul. It’s inevitable with a former aristocrat crashing into the pirate gig like Byakuya—but they’re working on it. Progress clearly remains to be seen.

There are words to be said about a noble living among pirates—but not much, really, considering that some of them also used to be one. But he’s different, still clean, as compared to the years under their belts. There’s a stark contrast between long clothes and well-used tunics that move like whispers, boots as suited to foot combat as to trekking among precarious terrain, swords worn and chipped, an expression that’s equal parts weary and irritated—that tilts the entire comparison from odd to outright gaping, and Hina’s pretty sure he has a long way to go.

Nobles are light their whole lives, without the weight of survival on their shoulders, and they like to echo that in the way they speak and the clothes they wear; unlike those who undertook the name of piracy, where the weight becomes crushing the moment its worn.

Byakuya narrows his eyes. “It looks far from salvageable.”

Makoto groans. “That’s not the point here.”

“Yeah, you’re not the one who’s been out here for long. You’re lucky we’re pretty civil, or you might’ve ended up as some errand boy on another ship.” Hina argues with a snort, walking around the haul they’ve recovered. “It means it’s not safe ‘round here. The other parts we picked up earlier kinda look like it came from a battleship. If it crashed around here, then we gotta be careful because we’re not far off—”

“Um, right.” Byakuya pushes his glasses up with a sniff; clearly not ready for another lashing from her. “Of course, I knew that. I was about to get to it.”

Makoto looks at him dubiously. “Then why did you call it junk—”

“You’re missing the most important part of this haul,” another voice points out lazily, and the three turn to find Kyoko looking over from the railings of the helm, head tilted to the side. She’s resting a hand against the rudder, the epitome of aloof despite the threat of the ship tilting should her balance and grip falter; her violet eyes are bright and arresting against the fog of the afternoon, clouds grey and imposing, thick with promised rain.

Byakuya clicks his tongue in distaste, slight sneer warping his mouth. “And you’re supposed to be steering,” he starts. “I’m certain three people are enough to investigate a simple haul. Now come along.”

Hina laughs. “I swear you talk back to _anyone_. She’s the quartermaster and you don’t even care.”

“I don’t listen to the likes of—”

“Kyoko, what’s the most important part?” Makoto interrupts breezily, negating Byakuya’s offended outrage. “Byakuya, you have incredibly low standards for our ship and it’s kinda rude, considering all the work Hiro and everyone put into making sure this girl can last. Kyoko’s been doing this for years, she won’t risk a dangerous portside for fun.” He pauses. “Well, I mean—she did a few times. When we were chickening out from the navy, and her father was there, but still—”

The sound of Kyoko’s boots clicking against the stairs do nothing to relieve Byakuya’s apparent headache; Kyoko approaches, eyes scrutinizing the haul on the floorboards. “You’re right,” she directs at Makoto, crouching down and reaching out to touch the wooden shrapnel, and her gloves make a strange scraping sound when they connect. “This one appears to be from the keel, it’s relatively damaged, and we found it. Meaning?”

“Shipwreck,” Makoto whispers carefully.

“This looks pretty recent,” Hina concludes, the truth dawning on her. “We’re near the old golden coast.”

“Which a lot of inexperienced seafarers normally steer away from due to its vicious geography,” Kyoko says, arm dropping back to her side. “Navigating through it is out of the question.”

“Of course, I’ve been aware to this fact long ago.” Byakuya says boredly, a familiar reaction born from the remnants of his life in nobility, but leans closer as if the parts of the wreckage hold the answers. “Why would anyone without proper preparations even plot a course through here? There are easier ways around the golden coast. It makes no sense.”

Kyoko’s tone shifts into something serious. “No, it doesn’t at all,” she agrees. “We aren’t the only ones that search the archipelagos for odds and ends. But I have a hard time believing anyone would let their ship pass through here if there wasn’t something they’re after.”

“You think there’s something out there?” Hiro interjects, hovering by the doorway of the officer’s cabin, attention clearly divided between the problem and the solution; he walks towards them with a whistle. “Kinda dangerous though. There’s no way we’re risking it. We’re out here to barter, and the crew’s still resting out from the last time we got into trouble.”

“You got a point there—but, you know,” Makoto says, waving him away. He settles his gaze solely on Kyoko, and it’s heavy with the weight of unfounded guilt. “Kyoko. C’mon. We have to check it out.”

The sentiment of _survivors_ hangs between all of them without being spoken aloud, and despite their less-than-conventional careers, they won’t leave anyone to die. That’s how they found friends in Toko and Syo, after all. Kyoko sighs, and Byakuya raises a hand to his temple automatically; the original battle’s been lost—Hina knows those looks.

Hiro’s now taking a small performance to a beam, humming sea shanties, and tapping a boot against the floorboards out of nervous habit.

“Hey, it’s… dangerous,” Hina tugs on Kyoko’s sleeve gently, giving her a worried look. “It’s unfamiliar topography. We’re going in blind.”

“I know,” Kyoko says quietly, squeezing her hand. “But I trust you to navigate properly for us. You know the sea like the back of your hand.”

“Yeah.” Hina smiles. “Good thing we run into problems for a living.”

Two hits in a row; Hina looks at Byakuya as he recognizes when he’s outnumbered, not that it’s a fight he would’ve pushed any further. Despite his reservations, he seems to trust their captain wholly, anyway. Byakuya learned early on that the only way to survive was to be a friend, not a dictator; and if anything, the position boasted the title without the power behind it, entirely by choice. He sighs, and nods to Makoto to give his vote of confidence.

Time to fall back on to feeling the sea. Listen, smell, understand—there’s a metallic taste to the air and a weight on her bones, not heavy enough to break but enough to be noticeable, and it tells her more than probably any of them realize.

“Thanks guys,” Makoto smiles softly. “Call everyone in, there’s been a change of plans.”

* * *

Over the chattering of the working hands and lookouts, the winches squeak and creak as the shrouds begin to wind. Right now, it’s a game of patience and perseverance, and Hina hovers at the stern of the boat, leaning against the rail as she watches masts crank home. It’s dark beneath the waters, too murky and too deep to find their reflections.

“This is gonna suck, like, _soooo_ bad.” She hears Hiro mope.

“Stop brooding, you dingus. I don’t know about you but this place seems like a good time!”

Hina glances at Toko over her side; though she seems to be Syo at the moment, one hand holding onto the rails as she leans away from it in glee. Hiro’s raising his hands up from behind her, trying to make sure she doesn’t fall off the ship. Hina almost laughs, staring at everyone; they always look so alive out in the ocean air, like they’re all about to shoot into the sky and say their greetings to the seagulls.

Home has always been out here. Hina’s more the type to sink into the waves rather than blow away on the wind. Maybe that’s why she’s stayed for years; it’s a sense of belonging, a place to call your own.

This part of the sea was different, however.

“We aren’t totally guaranteed to walk away from this guys,” Hina warns them, raising up a finger. “Don’t jinx it.”

Syo throws on a look of mock hurt. “What? Do I ever?”

Hiro sighs. “I mean—life-threatening situations are like, the norm for us at this point. Jinxing does nothin’.”

“See, fortune boy? You’re so resigned all the time!” Syo pats his back and Hiro coughs violently. “The ocean gods or whatever floatin’ fuck’s out there know to not take you seriously anymore.”

“No, no! That’s how it works!” Hiro suddenly snaps up, adjusting his glasses. “It means when we really _do_ need their blessings, we’ll get it! Ya hear me?”

“Bucko, I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works either…”

“No, like, I’m sure it does. Trust me.”

“Ha! Dumbass, that’s what you said last time!”

This was an exchange she’s heard from these two before, and likely would again. Spending so many days on the ship, navigating and adjusting sails and masts at a time, conversations tended to get reused or recycled. It drove the likes of Byakuya nuts, but that’s a given since almost anything in this ship irritated him. Most of them didn’t mind the same banter, the same jokes. It was a better alternative to the drama that thrived on some of the bigger fleets, and it made her savor any new conversations all the more.

As Hina keeps watch of the strange waters, she pulls the ponytail out of her head and shakes her hair out before tying it back on. She sees Kyoko look out at them from the railing of the helm again, amused, clearly looking at her; Hina wearing her hair loose on the deck always made Kyoko nervous, for whatever reason, so she always does the obviously mature thing and blows Kyoko a kiss before turning back.

There certainly seems to be no one out here. Hina frowns, wary, as another mate yells from the crow’s nest, reporting his findings; which were nothing at the moment. It’s way too quiet, and anything too much in these waters means bad news. Hina decides to walk over the helm, and nudges Makoto lightly.

“I don’t know about you, but I don’t like the feeling I’m getting from this place.”

“…I know. I feel it too.” Makoto grimaces. “But a little longer, Hina, then we’ll go back.”

“Guys,” Kyoko’s voice cuts through the fog like gunwales. “Do you hear that?”

Hina cranes her neck, waiting for the aforementioned sound.

It was… like a lullaby.

When Hina shakes her head, she expects the song to disappear like a dream. It takes her another few seconds to realize it was real. This isn’t the wind whistling through the sails, or the howling of a distant, faraway wolf. It was real. A real song.

And it was a beautiful one.

“What _is_ that?” Makoto whispers, transfixed and in awe.

She leans against the prows, tilting her head out and straining her ears. The singing sounded like an echo, perhaps coming from one of the islands that formed the outer rings of coast’s archipelago. It’s a lovely melody. Haunting, but soothing, in a language unknown to Hina. She feels a strange twinge of longing pull at her chest.

The sky cracks open above them, lightning weaving through the clouds like bridges from the islands and never striking. Hina slowly walks towards the rails, staring into the mist, and she barely notices the rain at all.

Until a firm and gloved hand is placed on her shoulder. “Don’t.”

“What?” She asks, strangely out of breath, leaning close to Kyoko to be heard over the roar of the storm. The back of her neck tingles, her throat tight. “What’s going on?”

“I can’t say for sure,” Kyoko says lowly. “But I have a vague idea.”

A singular, red eye looks at Hina through the mist, pupil narrowing to a dangerous dot before the eye closes completely.

She feels sick.

“ _No_ ,” Kyoko breathes out. “Shit—shit, we need to turn back. _Now!_ ”

Makoto blinks. “What? What’s going on?”

“Sirens!” Kyoko says, rushing towards the helm. Makoto whimpers, scampering away to the main deck. Hina feels a strange weight sinking into her stomach as she runs after him, trying to snap everyone out of the trance that she’s waken up from just a little while ago.

_Sirens_. Hina halts, not sure what to do first. She believed in some superstitions here and there, and this one wasn’t unheard of. Any sailor worth their salt have heard the tales of singers from the sea; mysterious creatures that sang to foretell death—but it was mostly fabricated and exaggerated at ridiculous degrees to teach privateers the lesson of sailing safely through unfamiliar waters. They were myths and tall tales made to bestow guidance and instil wariness. They weren’t real. _They weren’t real._

Not for long.

As much as she loved the ocean, Hina had been content with the fact that she’ll never ever know all the secrets it has to offer. The sea will hold its mysteries the same they hide their own.

But still.

She thinks she must’ve imagined the way that peculiar red eye had stared at her. There had been too much intelligence behind it; too alive and too knowing.

Why did it look at her like that?

In the howling of the rain, she can still hear the song, muted and faint and harrowing. Hina swallows, trying to drink it in as much as she could. It doesn’t make sense that something that sounds so beautiful, so sweet, can be such a bad omen. It had been comforting, like a caress, lulling her into a feeling of calmness that she felt only fleetingly in waking life. The song spoke to something; something soft. Spoke to war, to struggle, to a deeper, final peace. Maybe that was the point.

The ship dangerously tilts to the left side.

“Holy shit!” She hears Syo yell, grabbing onto a beam and trying to make sense of what was happening. Whatever was beyond that fog was getting them to meet their maker.

Hina takes a deep breath and stares into the mist, knuckles turning white as she grips the railings. She squints, finding any silhouettes through the rain and turning tides; _sure,_ she must have imagined what she’d seen before. This time, she’ll keep looking, seeing how far it can go.

The steps on The Conviction are narrow and steep, and Hina has to negotiate them carefully, her body naturally rocking with the violent waves as she makes her way toward the starboard. She hears footsteps behind her, and when she turns, she sees Makoto hurrying to catch up to her, looking frantically over her shoulder, some of their crew not far behind.

She turns, and her eyes widen. The masts beat against the winds violently, almost falling off, straining against the harsh downpour. Kyoko is running towards bowsprit.

Syo yells from the portside. “What the hell are you doing?!”

She doesn’t miss the brief, fearful look in Kyoko’s eyes before she masks it with fire. “Careening this damn ship around,” she yells back, though her tone’s taken on an odd, intimidating quality. “We can’t be marooned here! I have a plan and I need all of you to tru—” her voice is cut off by the sound of thunder, and whatever else Kyoko was going to say had been lost to the devastation of the weather.

You need all of us to _what_ , she almost asks, but before she even knows it, Hina finds herself running after her.

* * *

She wakes up, and she can’t breathe.

The noise that startles her into some frame of consciousness is the clean sound of the tideline, like waves crashing against a solid surface. The air that had once tasted thick and stale is now bleeding—that’s the only way she can describe it—healing and warm and pure. She can’t see, doesn’t open her eyes, and the inside of her skull feels as if it’s been vacuumed.

There’s something in her chest, choking her out, and she practically keels over. Hina forces it out in a motion she thinks that’s half a scream and half a cough. The sheer power of it sends her sitting up from where she’d been laying, doubling over as she spews saltwater into the wood at her feet. Sand and water and seaweed and probably worse… dear _god_. What even happened?

“Ah, so you’re not dead.”

Hina starts to move, coughing. “You can say that when I’m done hacking my guts out,” she rasps, spitting the salty seawater from her mouth. Okay, to be honest, this is kinda disgusting. Hina loves the ocean; she loves it beneath the hull of the ship, loves it when she’s breathing the smell in, and hates it when it’s inside her. There are some things that should just stay right where they’re meant to be.

Wait.

Who did she just talk to?

“So you’re not dead?”

Hina spits out another glob of seawater, tasting iron in her mouth. She drawls, “No, but if you’re gonna keep chatting me up I wish I were.” It’s a harmless lie; there’s something about this person’s voice that has her heart racing and her blood warm. She wouldn’t mind being alive for a while to hear it again. And again. And again. And again.

A laugh. It’s melodic. Her heart stutters, beating in her throat, not quite fathoming what’s happening or what she’s hearing. “You’re quite rude, considering I saved you and your friend’s life.”

Hina blinks again, the world slightly more focused. She’s on the remains of a ship, she understands that much, and colors are beginning to look exactly how they should be. She languidly turns to her side to find Kyoko coughing up next to her, in a similar state of being damp, wet, and frustratingly breathless.

She sighs, relieved to see Kyoko with her _and_ alive, first and foremost. Hina blows her hair out of her face, tucking some strays behind her ear. “Thanks, I guess,” she says in as grateful a manner as she can while still struggling not to choke on saltwater. “Maybe we can—give you something back on the ship if you want to go.”

And she raises her face at last, looking towards the source of the voice.

“What the fuck,” she hears Kyoko breathe, but Hina can’t even think, can only stare as she takes her savior in.

And, well—

—she’s, um, positively not human. At least.

Though Hina thinks she could have guessed that from the tail. Or the scales. Or the spiky things and fins running down the creature’s spine in stark profile. Anything and everything, really.

_That’s… a lot of black and red._

“Holy shit,” Hina mutters, because there’s absolutely no way—none at all—that she’s seeing straight. There’s no way she’s looking at an actual siren, except that she absolutely is, in the flesh, voice imposing and well-worn, power and charisma rolling off in waves, the same swagger of sailors—the kind that only comes out of knowing the seas by heart for years, for a given value of whole and sane, haunted and enchanted but still breathing—that Hina sees in Kyoko’s eyes, knows burns in her own. She tosses everything she knew about the ocean aside. Hina understands what this is.

Sirens leave many unbelievable fables in their wake, but it's nothing in comparison to what’s right in front of her.

They are a myth.

Not anymore.

The woman is naked, or by their definition, she could be. And for a few dreamlike seconds, Hina can only stare.

She’s beautiful, possibly the most beautiful woman Hina has ever seen, and she wonders maybe if the navy got it wrong; maybe a striking goddess didn’t ride in from the sea on a seashell, but within the skin of a siren. She tears her eyes away from the perfect angles and planes of her face, trying to ground herself with the task at hand. She pushes herself away from the strangely attractive creature, still hacking.

Hina should fight. She should use every ounce of strength she can muster to take this woman down, take the floor instead. Let guns be drawn, let death come. She should run. Back out into the deep breadth of water she’d previously found solace in and let it reclaim her. Things that exist only in myths can’t harm you, Kyoko used to tell her. And you know that is all there is to it. Isn’t that how the saying goes?

She doesn’t do either options.

“I don’t think you should do that.” The siren calls. Even the slow drawl of her speaking voice is immediately alluring. Hina instantly stops shoving herself against the floorboards when she does it, not wanting to move away. She’s actually not sure if she would have been able to even if she tried.

“Huh?” Hina asks tersely.

“I managed to retrieve you in time, so you are somewhat unharmed. You merely swallowed some seawater.” The siren says, as if that’s even remotely helpful, as if she’s even supposed to exist, because Hina knew the ocean, knows that the only dangerous creatures out there are her own flesh and blood. The odds were nearly impossible of finding a siren of all things, much less one that’s apparently _talking_ to her. “The same can be said for your friend. Though there are some mild bruises here and there.”

Hina pounds her fist on her chest, coughing again. “Oh… okay?” She mumbles back, trying her best to compose herself but obviously failing. She looks at Kyoko for a bit, reaching out to gently caress her cheek; the woman still seems to be in a haze, but Kyoko leans into the touch regardless.

This isn’t really the way she likes to make first impressions. But if this siren was here to finish the job, impressions won’t matter much anyway.

Damn. What a way to go.

“Hm? Do you not remember anything? You and the lady did something to the masts and commandeered your ship in a steep turnaround right when it was about to crash into the rocks.” The siren leans closer, her smile dangerous and beckoning. “You heard my song and took action almost immediately. But the storm took you two to your graves. They didn’t know what you were doing until it was too late.” She grins, teeth white and sharp and lethal. “I’ve never seen a ship escape me in ages. Much less a maneuver like that since Junko Enoshima. Color me impressed.”

It was just sinking in— _and by the gods_ —they all fell for a _siren_.

The siren sends her a condescending smirk, and she’s small but somehow her presence seems enormously broad, which is _nuts_ because Hina knows that her shoulders are a few times wider and that she could probably deadlift this creature at least a few times over, but this woman is all haughty and ethereal excellence and, well, _shit_ ; Hina’s only been conscious for a few moments and mostly she’s just crushed on Kyoko her entire _life_ , but now this _siren_ has turned Hina completely inside out in about three to five minutes flat. 

“But you… saved us?” She rubs at her head, subtly trying to scoot backwards up towards the safety of dry land—or whatever. Sirens can’t walk on land, yeah? That’s what everyone said.

Wait, _right_ , it looks like she’s on a ship wreckage. At the edge of some island. _Oh._ That’s one mystery solved and answered at least. “Isn’t that a bit out of character for you guys?”

“Oh? Do you think you know us?” The siren challenges, raising an eyebrow. “Do your nursery rhymes tell you everything you need to know?” She scoffs haughtily and flicks her tail, sending seawater into Hina’s face. She sputters, but the siren cuts in before she can reply. “Fortunately for you and your friend, you are too pretty to kill.”

Hina raises an eyebrow, pausing in her little retreat. “I… what?” She blinks owlishly.

“Sirens don’t speak in lies.”

“…huh?”

“Ah, well, you wouldn’t know either way.” She smirks at her. “Sirens are great liars as well.”

Hina pauses, considering that. Two can play at this game. “Can you tell me something true then?” She challenges. Hopefully this siren wouldn’t get mad at her then eat her alive or something.

“My name is Celeste.”

Hina stares, steadily standing up and inching closer. “Uh—this is like, my nickname. But, um, Hina.”

“Come closer then, Hina,” Celeste says, gesturing her with a come hither motion. Her eyes are incredibly wide. “No need to be so shy. I can barely hear you.”

“Eh—but I’m right where you left me!”

Celeste’s eyebrow arches straight upwards, posture sharpening, and Hina’s stomach drops into the floor because she’s not sure what it is, precisely, that she just said but she’s absolutely sure it was dumb.

“…”

“Darn.” Hina huffs out a laugh. “You’re smart like Kyoko is—oh, that’s the pretty one with me. She’s kinda like the vice-cap—yeah, you’re smart. I can give you a little credit.” She comes closer, just a tiny bit, and her toes brush the other end of the splintered floorboards where the siren sits. It’s a compromise. A gesture of goodwill. Parley. She’s not quite sure who the criminal is in this conversation. Hina raises an eyebrow. “So, was it just my cute face that saved me, or do you have other motives for keeping us alive? Like torturing us or something. I want to be aware of how I’m gonna go—you know.”

Celeste hums, Hina feels herself gravitate towards the velvety sound. “Too many have answered the songs. Fleets, brigades, sometimes. There’s this battleship you see right before you.” She licks her lips, and for some sick, twisted reason Hina can’t tear her eyes from the sight of her sharp teeth glinting in the daylight. “A satisfying meal, that one.”

“That’s cool, that’s really cool,” Hina tells her seriously, “but can we get back to our ship?” She needs to get back on the sea. Having something solid and unmoving beneath her is not doing any wonders for her psyche, but maybe it’s because of the woman right in front of her; mysterious, alluring and gorgeous, on her lonesome and dwelling by the shores and lonely crags, also the fact that she was staring at Hina like a serving on a silver platter. She was made for battle, not the hunt. Especially not when she’s the prey.

“Oh, do you want to go already? What’s your ship called?”

“Why do you want to know?” Kyoko’s voice asks from behind her, and Hina turns to see her attempting to stand up.

“Kyoko!” She immediately runs over to help. That, annoyingly, is enough to derail Kyoko’s obvious runaway thought process at the idea of finding an actual existing siren, and Hina hears her grind out a curse that would make the rudest sailor blush.

“Hey, glad to see you’re safe,” Kyoko whispers to her quietly, but shifts her perusing stare back to Celeste once she’s steady. “Why do you want to know? Seems to me like you want to track her down and sink her. I can’t let you do that.”

Celeste rolls her eyes. “I would’ve done so when you were both unconscious and sinking into the depths.”

“All the better that we don’t tell you her name.” Kyoko says dryly. “That ship is our life.”

“Really, though. This ruin right before you is not my doing. They had fallen for my song, but they are the ones who came to this part of the sea without knowing the terrain. This wreckage is entirely their own.” Celeste flicks her tail again, sending a shot of seawater at Kyoko’s direction, but she easily swerves in time to avoid the projectile. “I do not sink ships. I only empty them.”

Instead of dignifying it with an answer, Kyoko leans back, studying Celeste quietly. Hina bites her bottom lip, staring at the both of them. Something about Hina desperately wants to trust Celeste. So she does. “The Conviction.”

“Hina,” Kyoko warns her in a low whisper.

“The Conviction,” Celeste repeats, and then giggles. Harmonic. Hina feels a shiver run throughout her entire body and she’s pretty sure it isn’t because she’s drenched from head to toe in water. Honestly, it’s hard to tell what’s more absurd, that her voice is having an effect at all on Hina or that the fact that it’s having an effect on her is throwing her off-kilter. ”A fitting ship for two lovely ladies.”

Somehow, somewhat, someway, a battle’s been lost.

She’s not sure how or when it even occurred; she only senses the shift of it, the subtle tilt of a turning tide just a few inches away. What she sees is this: Celeste’s eyes, that alluring shade of red, too enchanting to tear herself away from. (Pretty—stupid, overused word. She shakes herself out of it. Captivating. Captivatingly red—it’s normally the color of her tunic and her own blood, and nothing else.) Her smile, sharper than swords or shattered glass. And Kyoko—looking handsome as usual in her peripheral, that white hair cascading messily over her shoulders as she turns away, accepting the threat of her back to the wolves.

“Yes, it’s The Conviction,” Kyoko says, signalling a kind of surrender. “We take to the southern seas.”

A pulse flutters between them, and Hina lets out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.

“I see,” Celeste replies playfully without losing her edge, “your ship full of hopeful people? Determined? Larger than life and with goals to follow?”

There’s the most miniscule of pauses, hand curling around a wooden railing full of barnacles. “If I had a gun on me, I would’ve killed you right where you stood,” Kyoko says simply, but underneath her disgust, Hina finds intrigue and something more. Celeste appears to pick up on it, her smile reaching a dimple. “But yes. The crew is full of people like that.”

Maybe Kyoko’s feeling the way like I am, Hina thinks idly, and immediately berates herself for that thought even crossing her mind. She chalks it up to survival instincts, and the technically, somewhat, still dangerous creature right in front of them.

Out here, there are no rules. Emotions can be used, spent and saved like currency. Forged, faked and stolen. And sometimes, that’s more useful than a physical weapon.

The sea and the slaves to its attrition taught her a lot about survival, but as she looks at Kyoko, she knows that’s one lesson she learned on her own.

Her brain clearly hasn’t caught up to her mouth, because she finds herself bluntly asking, “Wanna be part of the crew?”

Celeste’s eyebrows raise, a bit of the sweeping fire slipping from her expression; her lips twist in a way split between pitying and amused. “You’re quite strange, aren’t you?” She says, but it seems to be rhetorical. Hina blinks, and only then comprehends the weight of her tongue—she must’ve slurred; her adrenaline’s wearing off. “Considering the assumption that you’re not the one who calls the shots here.”

Kyoko snorts.

Celeste smirks at them. If she’s trying to put Hina at ease, she’s doing a horrible job; oxygen depletion, water pressure and some recent discovery in chemical science responsible for slowing nerves while a body’s in stasis can be one hell of a drug—or that’s how she remembers Kyoko and Byakuya wording it; those two had been fairly accomplished academics before turning to a life of piracy, and while Hina couldn’t really follow her sometimes, she liked hearing Kyoko talk about it when she wanted to.

She feels the corner of her mouth curl. Regardless of her confusion, she can’t deny that any other siren would’ve killed them by now, gleefully counting their heads for dinner. “Heh, can’t blame me if I just waked up from near death, right?” Hina focuses enough to drawl, which is marginally better than a slur and sounds about fifty times as flirtatious. Oh, well. It’s better than actually drowning.

“Now then,” Kyoko starts, low and drawling, finally turning to face the two of them fully, hands settling at her belt for lack of anything better to hold on to. “Can we actually get back to our ship? We’re not here to build a vacation home.”

“My, so impatient.” Celeste supplies, and Hina blinks away from wondering if Kyoko pondered on the option of strangling Celeste to get that obnoxious grin off her face. “Don’t you two want to chat? You should be more accommodating of the one that saved you, you know.”

Hina giggles. “What do you want to chat about then?”

“Please don’t entertain her.”

“Your eyes are very blue,” Celeste ignores her and tells Hina, then turns to Kyoko with an amused curl on her lips. “And yours are very purple.”

“Is it now?” Kyoko asks wryly, and deserves a mountain of credit for not adding anything insulting. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Must you be so impolite?” Celeste sighs out dramatically, and Hina watches Kyoko let out a tired sigh; because it’s probably easier than punching her and also because she hates not being in the order of things. It’s been a while since she’s seen Kyoko at a loss around anyone, and between her and Celeste right now she’s floundering and desperate for any piece of driftwood to grab onto.

“How can you even take us back to the ship?” Kyoko asks, one hand waving uselessly. “We can’t exactly trust you.”

Hina grins excitedly. “I do!”

“Not useful to mention at the moment, Hina.”

“Oh? I’ve essentially crippled you and your entire ship with the sound of my voice alone. Returning you from whence you came is child’s play. Magic is such an interesting prospect.” Celeste frowns; it looks fake. “Why won’t you trust me then, captain?”

“I’m not the captain.” Kyoko answers instantly. “And you’re a siren.”

“What about it?”

“Am I supposed to believe you’re not enchanting us right now?”

Celeste’s tail lashes in the ocean, sending sparkling droplets of water through the air. “I don’t know what you humans think you know about sirens,” she says, staring right into Kyoko’s eyes with the gaze of a predator, “but the sirens _I_ know all have their music. Our songs are an integral part of us. And as you can see, I’m not singing. You two are here on your own.” She grabs Kyoko by the open collar of her shirt, pulling her closer. Hina’s pretty sure she wasn’t supposed to feel something staring at them both. “Perhaps you’re just in denial about finding a monster out of the sea attractive?”

“I’m—I’m not—”

“Ah, ah, don’t lie,” Celeste purrs, and the word sounds like a prayer and an insult. At that, Kyoko shuts her mouth. “You can be honest.” She pulls to Kyoko closer, nosing up against her jaw. Hina can only stare, frozen, as Celeste breathes in, slow and purposeful, and smiles. Celeste turns to her with a smirk, and Hina can’t help the blood that rises to her cheeks, visibly blushing against her better judgment. “Do you like what you see?”

“Uh—um—I don’t think I’m supposed to like, find monsters really pretty.”

“Hina,” Celeste breathes out, and she knows she’s well and truly done for. “Are all humans such puritans like you two? Can’t adjust to something new? How boring.”

“I—”

“The ship,” Kyoko says suddenly. She’s doesn’t appear upset anymore, but there’s something different to the set of her mouth, the way her posture's folded in on itself and her hands are crossed to their opposing shoulder and hip, an incomplete latticework of diagonals and squares, the ineffectual armor of a lady in court instead of a pirate in the heat of battle; maybe because Celeste is still all over her. Hina tries to hold in her laughter.

“Mhm,” Celeste drags out with a shit-eating grin. “What about the ship?”

“Um—we need to get back,” Kyoko says slowly, not looking away from her and shifting her posture, not even for the way Hina’s hands squeezed hers, the way the air in the clearing’s suddenly charged between the three of them. There’s more tension now, somehow, than there had been when Celeste had a hand on Hina’s chin, than when Kyoko had been held hostage by her pride minutes ago. Pirates, sirens, they’re residents of the sea; the expectation of violence has been shoved upon them for so long that it’s simple, always, even when it isn’t ideal. It’s everything else that’s complicated.

“You can’t possibly be thinking of leaving without paying me in some way,” Celeste replies lightly, drawing circles on Kyoko’s shoulder. “I saved you and I get nothing in return? I thought I knew the concept of bartering well enough. How disappointing.”

“Is this rhetorical?” Kyoko says, backing away, because Celeste is overbright and overwhelming, and there’s only so much of that Kyoko can handle on the clock without sinking back into her walls, except her usual ‘walls’ involves more guns and swords and less holding of Hina’s hand, so sarcasm is just fine.

“It won’t be if you were more daring.” Celeste drawls, and something about the implication in her voice sets Hina off—immediately feeling a blush that she’s certain reaches from her ears down to her fingertips. “You can’t even leave without me, so I’m allowed as much I can and as I see fit.”

Celeste pauses.

“Hina, come here.”

“Huh?” Hina blinks, nearly recoiling. Hina doesn’t recoil from anyone, because she hasn’t been bested by anyone in combat for as long as she can remember, but there’s a power to Celeste that’s magnetic and intimidating even to Hina, just as there’s a strength and stability to Kyoko that’s fascinating.

Celeste tilts her head to the side. “Let me take a look at you.”

“What? Come over here then.”

Celeste juts her lower lip out in a theatrical pout. “I can’t leave the water,” she sighs, and she turns her gaze downward, tracing her finger along the old and aged patterns on the floorboards before her. Her red and black tail waves lazily behind her, scattering mirrored water droplets through the air. “I’m clearly not like you.” She looks up, and _gods_ , her eyes are red. “The same cannot be said for you, however. Come here.”

“Hina,” Kyoko says warily. She stops briefly, too, staring at Celeste. Too full of things to say and second-third-quadruple-guessing every single one of them. They’re dynamite with a fifty-fifty chance to blow and she’ll light the perfect match the moment she finds it. They’re a wildfire waiting to start.

“Nah, I got this.” Hina edges closer still, letting go of Kyoko’s hand clambering to Celeste, just a foot away. “How’s this?”

She _could_ get closer, of course. And she’s pretty sure Kyoko really, truly wants to, _too_. But she wants to see if this creature wants them the way she does. And by the way Celeste’s eyes slide closed, half-lidded with long lashes brushing pale cheeks, she thinks it’s true.

“Your eyes are very blue,” Celeste says as-a-matter-of-factly.

“You said that earlier.” Hina murmurs. “You know, you can be kinda silly.”

Hina gets closer.

Their foreheads touch together for a moment. Celeste takes in a quiet, expecting breath.

Hina closes her eyes, and leans in.

But—

Wait.

“Hey,” Hina says roughly, pulling away. “Wait a sec. Uh, I can’t—I can’t do this.”

Celeste raises an eyebrow, amused. “Why not?”

“You’re a _siren?”_

She rolls her eyes. “According to what I’ve seen from you so far, something tells me you don’t really care. Neither does Kyoko.”

Hina turns her head to see Kyoko blinking rapidly. Apparently her blatantly loaded staring and sudden lack of articulation is noticeable. “I—what—”

Celeste laughs, and Hina’s close enough to feel her breath, and she murmurs, “Thought so. You humans are so easy to tease.” She gestures Kyoko to come close and whispers, once more, “Especially you, my captain.”

“I’m not the damn captain,” Kyoko mutters back, but walks closer anyway.

The problem is that the majority of pirates, in the heat of the moment, have a notoriously poor sense of judgment, and almost no ability to appropriately catalogue risks.

Maybe theirs is a special circumstance anyway—maybe living a life of risks skews their perceptions of it, like looking into a mirror, betrayed by your own sight, bones elongated and body stretched too wide. Their entire lives a game of roulette.

Maybe that’s why she starts to want _more_.

“Hina.”

Hina shudders and turns her head, following the sound of Celeste’s voice. She finds her mouth by touch and sound alone, guided along her blind side towards the siren’s smile.

“If you want me to, I can sing.” Celeste breathes against her lips.

Hina laughs, “No, I think I’m fine,” her smile’s spreading, infectious. She’s staring determinedly ahead, knuckles turning white, a bashful curve to her spine and, finally, kisses her for real this time.

The sun may as well be collapsing inward, swallowing her whole. There are too many devils hidden in the details—sea monsters and creatures lurking in the edges—no one’s ever wanted something from a pirate without wanting something in return. Except for one. Hina signs her heart like a contract, gives it away in the instant her name is immortal on the paper.

_Dear lord,_ any passing ship could see this. Any sailor with eyes better than blind would be able to see this for what it really is: navigator and quartermaster of the infamous _Conviction_ , bewitched by a _siren_.

Just as quickly as the illusion appears, the magic of it fades, and water falls to the floorboards, splattering back into the sea and carrying her heart with it.

“Don’t stop on my account,” Kyoko drawls out, leaning against the railings just right next to them, and Hina jerks back abruptly, nearly dropping herself into the ocean. Celeste huffs out an annoyed sigh and Kyoko chuckles, whole and honest. “I said there’s no need to stop on my account.”

“ _Kyokoooo_ ,” Hina whines, burning bright red in embarrassment. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I know,” Kyoko says, casual, unconcerned, crouching down next to them and leaning close, one hand settling by Hina’s leg and one by Celeste’s, and Hina glances at Kyoko and then at Celeste and back again. “I was thinking.” 

“You’re always thinking.” Hina replies instantly, giggling. It’s not often Kyoko beats around the bush; she’s frustratingly articulate, unless she’s lying to herself. Unless she’s hiding something.

“I’m aware,” Kyoko draws closer, straightening up and tilting her head towards Celeste until she’s crowded in close, pressed between her knees and Hina’s, lips brushing softly against the side of Celeste’s jaw. Celeste stiffens at first, but leans into it, one hand drifting up and fingernails finding their way along Kyoko’s ribcage. Kyoko arches into it and then pulls back, just enough to raise an eyebrow.

“Is that considered payment?”

“Quite. Perhaps I’ll just have to keep letting you two almost drown.” Celeste tilts her head to the side, and there’s the predator’s grin once more. “You seemed so prim and proper. Turns out you’re just eager when you’re grateful.”

“Near-death experiences do numbers to your resistance, I suppose.” Kyoko reaches out curiously and traces the black line of one of Celeste’s smaller fins, watching the way it makes the siren shiver. “But between you two, I don’t think I need to be on the brink of death for a small sliver of affection or intimacy.”

Hina blinks. “Wait—does that mean—”

She’s been nursing a love she can never ask to go away, Hina realizes, and almost cries out in relief. She’s surging forward suddenly, reaching—Kyoko’s tanned cheeks are cradled in her hands—injured and beaten and beaming. A shaky hand reaches up, yanking her close, don’t look, Kyoko whispers through her smile, laughter bubbling in her voice, don’t look; she’s never been so happy in her life. They’ve switched their usual positions, with Kyoko flustered and Hina bold.

Some risks are worth it; she’ll live through them again, and again, and again. Maybe it’s confirmation bias, and she’s seeing what she wants to see without the consequences. Maybe she’s twenty five and doesn’t give a fuck because _wow_ two girls in one day—

And Hina doesn’t know if she kisses Kyoko to make her shut up or if because she’s about to break into the biggest smile ever. Admitting a love that’s been there for so long will do that to you, especially when it’s reciprocated. Especially when it’s reciprocated by the one person stunning enough to get anything she wants, if only she’d think to ask for it.

Her heart is everywhere at once, the ocean, the sky, the girls across from her.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.” Kyoko smiles, pulling herself away and sitting right next to them, dipping her feet in the water.

Hina laughs, content. “Yeah, me too.”

“Did I become the catalyst to some lifelong romance?” Celeste announces dryly.

“Well now that I’ve been successfully seduced, the siren charm is an odd phenomenon.” Kyoko hums, putting a hand to her chin in thought. She has the audacity to not even look mildly perturbed. “Not that it’s unpleasant—I like it, actually.”

“Where will you go now?” Celeste slides a hand along Kyoko’s arm, blinking up at her with wide, irresistible red eyes. “Back to your ship?”

“There are promises made and people that wait for her and I,” Kyoko reminds her. “This wasn’t part of the plan. Either we never passed through this coast at all, or we’re dead in the waters and thousands of feet under.”

Until you.

“Well,” Celeste starts. “Does your offer for a new crew member still stand?”

Kyoko raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Hina’s eyes bulge out of her skull. Is she implying—

Celeste’s stare flashes with something almost like embarrassment. “The adventure can get exciting, I hear. Sitting alone on an island isn’t quite as engaging.”

Ah.

Kyoko taps at her chin with a single finger, returning her smile. “Considering the fact that you almost lured us to our deaths, it’s going to take a lot of convincing. And there’s one obvious problem. How do we…” Her voice grows quieter, then she gestures vaguely to all of Celeste. “Deal with this?”

Celeste shrugs in an unsettingly eloquent manner. “I can turn human.” She provides, and at their blank looks, she raises an eyebrow. “Have you not known? If I can level an entire ship into a trance then assuming a human form is not so much of a problem.”

“Can you….” Hina trails off awkwardly, scratching the back of her head nervously, but excited still, “can you show us?”

“Of course.” Celeste grins, grabbing onto the edge of the floorboards and pulling herself completely out of the water and right next to them. The water takes longer than what should be natural to slide from her body, and when it does, it leaves glittering jet black scales in its wake. As the water drips from her in a curtain, sending black and red refractions all around her in the daylight. It almost looks like a cloak, stripping the scales from her even as it marks her as something entirely inhuman.

The illusion ends as quickly as it begins. Because there stood Celeste, pale and naked and smirking.

Hina stares. Kyoko covers her eyes with a hand.

“Hey!” Hina stutters, bright red. “I’m an _adult!_ We live with a few dozens of men! I think one naked lady doesn’t do much damage!”

“I think,” Kyoko says brilliantly, blinking, then unwinds the dark purple coat tied around her waist. Celeste accepts it with a giggle. “I think you’ll need this.”

Hina hoists herself up, dragging Kyoko close to meet Celeste. Hina actually stands at the same height as her like this, not too tall. Not too much. Not like Kyoko, anyway—who she nudges pointedly with her elbow. “You’re so pretty,” she whispers. “But I think you already knew that.”

“The siren charm stays.” Celeste rolls her eyes. “Thought you two would like it.”

“Mhm,” Kyoko says noncommittally, staring. “It’s nice.”

“Nice?” Hina snorts. “That’s all you have to say?”

“Yes, because you’ve been with me long enough to know that’s all I really need to say, too.”

Hina can give her that. “Huh, I guess.”

Kyoko turns to Celeste again. “While we don’t do this on purpose, our repute has made a few enemies over the years. We don’t just take anybody with us if we know they’re not fit for it. Can you swim? Can you fight?”

Celeste smirks. “The latter, I can. The former, I’ll figure it out.” She pauses, then adds, “Captain.”

“I’m _not_ the captain.” Kyoko laughs, and Hina relishes the little flutter in her heart when she makes the sound. “But welcome to The Conviction then, Celeste,” she murmurs, and she leans in for a peck on the cheek.

“Great!” Hina says brightly. She slaps each of their shoulders, and it’s only the approximate decade of combat experience and preternatural, necromantic grace that keeps Kyoko and Celeste from falling flat on their faces. Hina steps back, bounds towards the end of the wreckage, blows them both a kiss. “Let’s go ditch this place and go home, babes.”

Kyoko sighs and it sounds almost dreamy, and Hina stops in her tracks, her attention bolting back to her. 

“What?” Kyoko says sharply, as if she’s not flushing scarlet. Hina holds her laugh in, but Celeste doesn’t have the same idea, chuckling. Kyoko pushes a hair back to her ear, and clears her throat. “Come on. You heard her. Let’s go.”

She stalks off pass Hina, the tips of her ears bright red against the white of her hair, and Hina stays rooted to the wooden floor, watching them go. Kyoko, burning and knowing, intellect and strength; Celeste, a flicker of power in the viciousness of the sea, sharp and bright. She draws hums an aimless tune idly, twirling her hair absently in her hands, and sets off after them; ready to go home and greet her friends back from the dead.

**Author's Note:**

> i love historically accurate aus with research done well and done thoroughly. but it's also 100% sexy brain to let yourself go and like shallow aus. let me breathe and let me live.
> 
> sometimes, i would love to clean up the relationship tags to the one with *just* all three of them together!! but i'm technically trying to convert you people so there's that.
> 
> anyway, a little late since it’s 15 already here, but happy valentines!


End file.
